


bleed me dry, i wouldn't mind

by gleesquid



Category: Marvel Noir, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man Noir
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Porn with Feelings, Slight Age Difference, Socialism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: Mary Jane can feel her watching. She can always feel her watching.Set after Spider-Man Noir: Eyes Without a Face





	bleed me dry, i wouldn't mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traincat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traincat/gifts).



> This is set some time after Eyes Without a Face. In my head, the age difference between Peter and Felicia/Felicia and MJ is about 5-10 years, but it isn't mentioned much here. 
> 
> Happy Yuletide!

Mary Jane could feel her watching. She could always feel her watching.

“I don’t know why you insist on coming here,” said Peter, slipping onto the bar stool beside her. 

She held out her glass of gin for Peter. He took a swig. 

“You’re in a mood,” she said, and his frown lines smoothed. 

“When am I not?” he asked, waving over the bartender.

“Why do you hate it here so much?” she asked after the bartender had whipped up a tonic for him. She knew he would only have one glass. He never got drunk, at least not with her, and she was pretty sure she was his only friend. Especially with poor Robbie Robertson cooped up in his house now, a shell of the man he once was. 

Maybe Peter liked to drink on his own. There was a lot he did on his own time that he never seemed to want to tell her.

She respected that. They all had secrets. Some people were just better at hiding them. 

“This place and I have a history,” said Peter. His eyes focused on a table in a back corner, but his mind was far away. She could only imagine what he was seeing. “I was surprised they opened it again, honestly. After the owner kicked the bucket.” 

Mary Jane stared at her drink. “You think she’s really dead?” 

Peter glanced at her with something strange on his face, the kind of look he got when she said too much.  “You don’t?” 

She shrugged, trying to mask her thoughts with a sunny smile, the way she did when her dad showed up, drunk, demanding her tips even though she didn’t get any, or when May Parker asked if she would come to the rally while she was ladling soup, or when Peter caught her staring. 

“It’s a bit of a mystery, that’s all,” she said. “Felicia Hardy disappears and everyone says she’s dead, but no one finds her body. All we have is the word of the cops.” She glanced up at Peter. “It sure would be interesting to hear the Spider-Man’s take on it all, huh?” 

Peter didn’t look away. His eyes, dark brown with a ring of gold around the iris, bore into hers and she was afraid he could see right through her. But she had to trust that her walls were up so high that not even Peter Parker could scale them. 

“That guy’s a schmuck,” Peter said, turning away. “Who cares what he thinks?” 

She took a drink. 

“I actually, uh, I have to go,” Peter said. He gulped down the rest of his drink. “Aunt May’s got another Socialist Party rally today and I’ve gotta be on the frontlines.” 

“Of course,” said Mary Jane. “Go change the world, Peter Parker.” 

He stood, and heistated. Carefully, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. And then he was clearing his throat, and he was gone. 

Mary Jane finished her drink even as she could still feel the press of his lips and smell his musty cologne. It gave her courage. 

She pushed the glass across the bar and stood. She crept towards the back of the inn, trying to seem like she knew what she doing. She had a lot of practice. Most people, it seemed, could be distracted by a cheery smile and a tinkling laugh.

At the stairs at the back of the inn stood a guard. She approached him and for a moment, they stared at each other. But then he stepped aside and Mary Jane could breathe again. 

She was waiting for her. She was always waiting for her. 

Mary Jane took the stairs one by one, growing colder the higher she traveled. She came to a door and knocked on it three times. 

The door opened. 

“Good evening, miss,” said Lippy. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

She nodded at him and stepped into the room. The balcony doors were open, a light breeze brushing back the hair on Mary Jane’s face. A figure stood on the balcony in a silken robe, her silver hair fluttering in the wind. 

Mary Jane slipped out of her shoes and padded across the floor to the balcony. Felicia didn’t turn. 

“You were with him,” said Felicia. Her voice, Mary Jane imagined, was much rawer now that she didn’t use it much. “I saw you with him.”

“We’re friends. You know that.” 

“I suppose I try not to think about it.” 

A tabby cat brushed alongside Mary Jane’s ankle. She reached down to scratch his ears. 

“He misses you, you know,” she said. The cat purred against her. “He never talks about you, but I can tell.” She glanced up at Felicia’s form. “I know you two were close. Closer than us?” 

“He was . . . idealistic. He had all these grand dreams about what the world should be. It was beautiful, in its way.” She turned, and her robe fell open. “You see the world for what it is.” 

Mary Jane’s gaze started at the mask Felicia always wore, covering everything but her vibrant eyes. And it traveled leisurely down her full breasts and her soft stomach and her wide hips and her legs that went on for miles. She had scarring, everywhere, but it didn’t bother her to show those scars on her naked body. She wore them with pride. The only scars she kept hidden were on her face. 

Mary Jane stood, undoing the buttons on her blouse as she walked. When she met Felicia on the balcony, she raised her hands to her waist and dragged them upward to Felicia’s breasts. They were bigger than her own and filled her hands. So many women she met said they wished they had a body like Mary Jane’s, lithe and slim, to be grateful for it while she had it. But she wished she were like Felicia. She loved her fullness. 

Felicia’s hand came up to Mary Jane’s own waist, slipping against the skin as if they couldn’t catch a grip. 

“I wish I could kiss you,” said Mary Jane, watching the way Felicia’s nipples grew as they poked through her fingers. 

“You can,” Felicia said. She placed her hands on Mary Jane’s shoulders and pressed. Mary Jane fell to her knees. 

She ran her nose along the hair of Felicia’s mound, breathing her in. She kissed one lip and then the other. And then she began to lick. 

Felicia’s hand worked its way into Mary Jane’s hair, holding her against the hot wetness, guiding her where she wanted her. 

“You’re so good,” Felicia said, her voice unchanged. But there was a hitch in her breathing and Mary Jane thrilled at it. “Peter was good too.” 

Her heart battered her chest. 

“He was so young, but so strong, and more eager to please me than any man I’d ever been with. And he learned me inside out. Did he teach you?”

Felicia’s hips began to cant against Mary Jane’s face. Her jaw ached and her chin was wet, but Mary Jane didn’t know if it was with Felicia or her own spit. 

“You should ask him.” A leg wound around Mary Jane’s shoulder, behind her neck. This way, she could lick deeper, smell more of her. “Next time you see him. Ask him how he fucked me. Ask him how good I was. Tell him I can’t be better than I am with you.” 

And then Felicia’s breath was hitching and there was a gush of wet against Mary Jane’s face and she tried to lick it all up and what she couldn’t, she let drip into her skin. 

The hand in her hair loosened and Mary Jane pulled back to see Felicia staring at her. The corners of her eyes were crinkled.

“Good girl,” said Felicia. “Stand up.” 

Mary Jane stood and Felicia pulled her so that she was staring out off the balcony. She could see the silhouettes of people walking, and she imagined they could see her silhouette as well. But in the darkness, she doubted they could even know she was a woman. 

Felicia pulled the blouse from Mary Jane’s shoulders and unhooked her bra. The cold wind stung, but Felicia kneaded her breasts, and her hands were warm. 

“Always so good for me,” Felicia whispered in Mary Jane’s ear. Her breasts pressed against Mary Jane’s back and her mask pressed against her hair. “As good as he was.” 

With a breathless laugh, Mary Jane rested her head back on Felicia’s shoulder. The column of her neck was completely exposed, and Mary Jane imagined that in some other life, Felicia would kiss her there. 

“Like that’s hard,” she said. “Have you ever talked to the guy?” 

“Have you ever fucked the guy?” 

Mary Jane shook her head and Felicia hitched her skirt to her waist. Her finger skimmed along Mary Jane’s damp underwear before slipping inside. For a moment, she didn’t move, resting in Mary Jane’s wetness. 

“Then I think I’m still the expert.” 

Felicia began to move her fingers, a gentle massage that unfurled a slow warmth and spread through her whole body. Mary Jane breathed and allowed Felicia to hold her. 

“Wait until he fucks you,” Felicia whispered. She pressed a finger inside Mary Jane and she breathed through it. “He’s so big, it’ll hurt for a moment. But only for a moment.” 

“What if I don’t want him to fuck me?” Mary Jane asked, voice nearly a whine. She dragged her own hands over her torso, over her breasts, to her neck. Felicia pressed another finger inside and Mary Jane gasped. The fingers slipped upward and pressed against something that made her body slack and the stars blur in the sky. “What if - ah, yes - what if I’m happy right where I am?” 

Felicia’s hair ticked Mary Jane’s shoulder. She smelled like cats and wine and perfume from Paris. 

“I can’t give you what you need,” said Felicia, as she languidly dragged against that spot again. Mary Jane’s breaths came in short gasps. 

“And Peter can?" She tried to sound sarcastic, but she probably only sounded desperate. "Because he has a penis?” 

A Siamese rubbed against Mary Jane and Felicia did something with her fingers that had Mary Jane pressing the heel of palm to her mouth. She bit down on the meat of her hand, liking the sting. 

“No,” Felicia said softly. “Because he has a face.” 

Mary Jane rolled her head to the side to look into Felicia’s blue eyes and ecstasy exploded within her. She crumpled against Felicia, panting. Felicia held her. 

After a moment, Felicia removed her fingers. Mary Jane ached with emptiness. 

Felicia touched her masked forehead to Mary Jane’s. It was slick and cold against her skin and almost felt like a kiss. 

“I couldn’t give him what he needed either,” said Felicia.

“But Peter’s a sucker,” said Mary Jane, her eyes stinging. “I bet he loved you anyway.”

Felicia sighed and stepped away. She tied her robe as Mary Jane righted her skirt and went to grab her things. A speckled grey cat sat on her bra. 

“Hey, buddy, come on,” said Mary Jane, kissing at the cat. “That’s mine now, give it here.”

Felicia leaned against the railing of the balcony. “Theodore’s very stubborn. ‘No’ doesn’t exactly work on him.” 

Mary Jane glanced up. The moonlight caught on Felicia’s hair and glinted off her mask. “Oh?”

And Mary Jane couldn’t see it, but she could hear the smirk in her voice. “Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it tomorrow.” 

“Guess so.” Mary Jane smiled as she did up the buttons of her blouse. 

She took one last look at Felicia whose face was tilted away to the street below, and let herself out. 

The guard stepped aside in silence and she entered the inn again. It seemed so loud compared to the peace of upstairs. She wrapped her arms around herself when she stepped outside, so much colder than when she’d come in. As she walked past the balcony of the Black Cat Inn’s upper level, she glanced upward. There was no one there. 

She hurried back to the Welfare Center, pausing when she saw the gathering outside. May stood up on a crate, shouting to her comrades. She saw Peter with his camera, a sign that read  _ ORGANIZE!  _ tucked under his arm, n ear the front of the crowd and she pushed her way through to meet him. 

“Hiya, Tiger,” she said, nudging his shoulder with her own. 

He turned and took a photo of her. She ducked her head, knowing she must look a mess. 

“Shy?” he asked, lowering his camera. She shrugged. “How was your drink?” 

“It was better when you were there,” she said, and he grinned. 

She turned back to May, who was shouting about seizing the means of production. The crowd around her cheered and Mary Jane found herself clapping along with them. 

“Mary,” said Peter and Mary Jane turned just and he kissed her. His lips were hard at first but they softened, not because he was weak, but because he was taking his time. The crowd cheered again as Mary Jane’s lips parted under his. 

He pulled away, his brow furrowed. 

“What is it?” she asked, voice breathy and nearly lost in the noise. 

“You . . .” He licked his lips. “You taste like someone I used to know.” 

She smiled. “Right back at you.” 

His lips spread into one of his rare, genuine smiles. He reached down and grabbed her hand, slotting their fingers together. They turned back to May and lost themselves in the chaos.


End file.
